


My Little Eye

by feldman



Category: Farscape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:08:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feldman/pseuds/feldman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during "Into the Lion's Den": there are many kinds of spy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Little Eye

Blood and water drip from Gennik's fingers onto the grass outside of the Training Bivouac. She blanks her face to keep the pain and the boredom from showing. The more discomfort she admits to, the more Physical Tactics Drills she'll be assigned in future. Instructor Sandron studies her with bland amusement. "I believe that is enough PTD for today, Cadet Gennik."

"Yes, sir." Her performance is substandard. She continues to be smaller than normal and clumsy. Gennik has learned not to expect much from her body, and by this point, neither do her teachers.

The debriefing is perfunctory, but Instructor Sandron does not dismiss her. "I hear you've had contact with one of our prisoner-guests. Based on your information, which one was she?" He is one of the new Instructors, and Gennik knows that her creche platoon is being tested for their First Reassignment.

She stands straighter, feeling the bruises on her back. "Aeryn Sun, formerly an officer in the Icarion Company, Pleisar Regiment."

He squints up through the haze to the ceiling, takes a deep breath of freshened air. "And your assessment, Cadet?"

Gennik keeps her eyes forward, keeps her face eager and blank. She cannot be a soldier and she will not be a tech. "Sun is a traitor and most likely a spy."

"And how many kinds of spy are there, Cadet? Report."

She remembers them with a mnemonic phrase of her own, so she can rattle the list off in a random order each time. "Native, Internal, Eye, Traitorous, Secret, Expendable, and Disruptive spies." She knows the next question, and the correct answer to it.

"And what kind do you think Aeryn Sun is?"

Gennik flicks the answer out like a hidden knife. "A traitorous spy."

Instructor Sandron smiles. "And?"

More than one? Her hand tingles like a healing friction burn, pain on both sides. *More* than one. Why didn't she think of that before? The woman is more than one kind of spy. Gennik opens the throttle, races through the list. Sun isn't Peacekeeper or civilian, so she can't be Internal or Native. Even if Sun could gather intel, she can't communicate outside of the ship and she will never leave it, so she can't be an Eye.

Gennik has already identified Sun as a traitorous spy.

Sun is aware of her own contamination, so she can't be a secret spy. "Sun is also a Disruptive and an Expendable spy."

"All three? Justify."

Gennik paces her breathing like she learned in Sniper Fire Training. She may have been too loud in the underbrush, but she was a commendable shot. "She is a traitor. She is here to give false information to her enemy. She will not leave this ship alive."

"Excellent." Instructor Sandron crouches on one knee and lays a hand on Gennik's shoulder. His voice is pitched at concealed level, barely audible above the fan-breeze through the treetops. "What kind of false information?"

Gennik follows the implicit command and leans close, her mouth less than a dench from the Instructor's ear. She shapes the words around her exhaled breath, speaking at ambush level. "She wants us to be weak, like she seems to be. Soft, and easy prey."

His whisper does not hide his amusement. "Seems to be, Cadet Gennik?"

She winces. A triple-spy--to think!--but she has no time to think. She can only guess at the layers underneath, and hope that this Instructor requests her reassignment. "She cannot be effective if she coddles herself the way she coddled me. She is more than she appears to be."

Instructor Sandron nods and gives her a pat on the arm. Gennik notes the smear of blood on his shoulder and the pride in his eyes.


End file.
